


Double The Fun

by WorseOmens



Series: Crowley, Aziraphale & Family Short Stories [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is still an idiot, Discussions & References to Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humour, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pregnant Aziraphale (Good Omens), ineffable husbands, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens
Summary: Crowley still hasn’t quite gotten to grips with the technicalities of sexual reproduction, and it starts to show.(Sequel to ‘When An Angel And A Demon Love Each Other Very Much’)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley
Series: Crowley, Aziraphale & Family Short Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806880
Comments: 44
Kudos: 354





	Double The Fun

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When An Angel And A Demon Love Each Other Very Much...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856765) by [WorseOmens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens). 



Crowley definitely delivered on his promise to dote on Aziraphale. No matter how many times Aziraphale reminded him that it was still early days, he insisted on buying a multitude of luxury comforts (blankets, pillows, expensive soaps and bath bombs, etc) and high-end meals. He showed no signs of losing momentum, even after several weeks. Aziraphale had to admit he was impressed, watching Crowley edge into the room while balancing a pyramid of biscuits precariously on a tea tray. He smiled, and set his book aside. 

“You do spoil me, dear,” he said with a wriggle of contentment, helping himself to a biscuit as he lowered the tray onto the table. They were his favourites. 

“Least I could do,” he said noncommittally, sitting beside him. He gently brushed his hand across his belly. “I was the idiot who didn’t realise I was liable to get you knocked up.”

He rolled his eyes fondly. “At least I knew,” he said, patting his knee. “What a nasty shock it would’ve been if it had been the other way around.”

Crowley grimaced. “Let’s not think about it.”

“Agreed,” he said, finishing the biscuit with a happy groan. He opened his eyes, keeping them half-hooded, knowing full well that he was being watched intently. They hadn’t slept together since he’d announced the pregnancy, and lust never stayed at bay for long. He turned to Crowley, running his tongue over his teeth. “Seen something tempting, my dear?”

He swallowed. “Uh.”

Aziraphale slid closer, leaning into him as he toyed with his shirt-buttons. “The tea is still far too hot to drink,” he said with a coy smile. “Whatever shall we do with the time...?”

Crowley snapped his fingers. “There. Should be fine to drink now,” he said, with a chaste kiss on his temple. Aziraphale pulled back with a pout, taken aback. 

“Oh... thank you,” he said, picking up the cup. Perhaps he’d misjudged the moment. He took a sip, avoiding his eyes and hoping Crowley wasn’t offended. 

“D’you need anything else?” Crowley asked, tilting his head. 

“No, no, I’m quite alright,” he said with a brief smile. If Crowley had said no, he wasn’t going to push the issue. “Your company is more than enough.”

They’d spent that afternoon cuddling on the sofa, drinking perfectly cooled tea and giggling over the Shakespearean comedy Aziraphale was reading. He thought nothing of his rejected advances until a few days later, when history seemed to repeat itself. Then again, the next day. He left it a few more days, thinking that perhaps Crowley was too busy trying to look after him in the daytime to consider anything else. Or... or maybe the atmosphere hadn’t been quite right. He just had to wait for the right moment, and let things happen naturally.

Aziraphale lay against Crowley’s chest, breathing in the familiar comforting scent of his cologne. The side-lamp brought a warm, intimate light to the room, reminding Aziraphale of candle-lit nights from centuries gone by, when calling Crowley his husband seemed like such a distant fantasy. He nuzzled the demon’s neck, kissing the exposed skin above his collarbone. Crowley’s fingers tangled in his curls, combing through his hair as he began to nip at his skin. Aziraphale smiled as he felt a groan of pleasure against his lips. He began to slide his hand under his shirt. 

Crowley caught his hand. “Bit tired, angel,” he said, pushing it away and refusing to look him in the eye.

“Ah. Yes, of course,” he said, backing off with a hint of disappointment. He was sure he hadn’t misread the mood this time, unless... well, unless that hadn’t been the problem all along. Crowley had been refusing him ever since he got pregnant. “Um, perhaps tomorrow morning, then.”

Crowley ummed and ahhed. “I dunno. Wouldn’t want to bring on any morning sickness.”

He scowled. “Is that why you’ve been keeping me at arm’s length?” he said, sitting up slightly. He did feel a bit queasy, but it had nothing to do with his pregnancy. “Because you think I’ll be sick if you try making love to me?”

He floundered. “W — Well, no,” he stammered, shrinking back into the pillow beneath his husband’s piercing stare. Aziraphale crossed his arms. 

“What is it, then?” he said, peeved. It faltered for a moment when he saw the wide-eyed nervousness on Crowley’s face. Aziraphale fidgeted uncomfortably, looking down at the gentle swell of his belly, running his hand over the developing bump. His real fear swam to the surface. “Am I... unappealing, this way?” 

Crowley jolted upright, rising several inches off the mattress with the energy of it. “No!” he exclaimed. He shuffled closer, wrapping his arms around him and planting his hands on the bump, massaging it with love so potent that Aziraphale felt it tingle on his skin. “Nothing like that, angel. Swear on my life.” 

A tiny sigh of relief escaped him, and he placed his hands over the top of Crowley’s. “Then what is it?” he said, leaning into his arms. “It won’t hurt the baby, you know.” 

He gave a reluctant grunt of assent. “I know. It’s... It’s not that,” he said evasively. He could feel Aziraphale waiting for an explanation. He wasn’t getting away without one. That was both the blessing and the curse of having moved into the bookshop full-time: _communication._ “S’just... first there’s one, fine, but what if we end up with twins? Or more? What if your corporation can’t handle it?” 

Aziraphale sat there for a moment, digesting his words, turning them over in his head just to make sure he’d heard them correctly. He gently pulled back, levelling an incredulous frown at him. “Darling,” he said. “You aren’t suggesting that you’re afraid of impregnating me with a second baby, are you?” 

“Is... is that not how it works?” 

Aziraphale dragged a hand over his face, shaking his head in deeply affectionate exasperation. “No, Crowley.” 

He wrinkled up his nose in confusion. “Well that doesn’t make sense then,” he said, as if God had made some sort of oversight. “Are you sure?” 

“Quite sure,” he said with a hint of derision. 

“But twins! How do twins get there? They’ve both got to get in the same way, haven’t they?” he said, making spirited gestures at the baby bump. Aziraphale grabbed his flapping hands, gently bringing them down to his lap. 

“Either there are two fertilised eggs, or one egg which splits in two,” he said, determined to be a vision of heavenly patience, as a thin veil to cover his abject disbelief. Crowley narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Now you’re just making stuff up. Humans don’t lay eggs,” he said. “You’re taking the mick.” 

He was really beginning to stretch Aziraphale’s heavenly patience. “I am not,” he said sharply. “It’s not my fault you never bothered to take an interest in human biology.” 

Crowley threw up his arms. “What is there to be interested in? It’s all squishy and strange, they’re all pink on the inside, and they all end up in the ground one way or another,” he said defensively. “Dust to dust and all that. I remember that bit very clearly.” 

“Yes, but would it kill you to pick up a book on the subject, dear? Preferably not the Bible,” he said, gentler this time. Crowley huffed, muttering something about how he didn’t read books. Aziraphale tactically placed his hand on his thigh, and deployed his cure-all solution. “For me?” 

Crowley shot him a side-glance. He was done for the moment he turned to look. Aziraphale wore his best puppy-eyes, greatly enhanced by the way his other hand rubbed his swollen belly; Crowley was a provider at heart, and that _his_ angel, carrying _his_ baby. He just couldn’t say no. “Fine,” he said. 

“And while we’re at it, now I’ve put your mind at rest,” he said, cheekily popping open the top button of Crowley’s shirt. The demon arched a brow. “Can I tempt to you to a spot of... well, me?”

Crowley watched him carefully, with doubt still lingering in the back of his mind. “And you’re sure we won’t end up with an extra baby?” he said.

”Positive,” he said, fidgeting in impatience, already running his fingers down to the next button.

“Well, in that case,” he said, reaching for Aziraphale’s hips before he even fully realised he was doing it. He pushed him back onto the pillows, finally cracking a familiar wolfish grin that made the angel shudder with anticipation. “Temptation accomplished, angel.”

Aziraphale scowled at the baby bump, which had now grown rounder and far more pronounced. “I’ll never hear the end of this,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He huffed, rubbing his belly. “Making trouble already... Crowley’s genes, I’m sure.”

The shop bell jingled. “Angel, I’m home!” he called, wandering over to the back room. A bag swung from his hand, containing a box of Aziraphale’s favourite chocolates. “Angel?”

Aziraphale sat in his chair, frowning at the desk. He fiddled with his signet ring and muttered something incoherent under his breath.

Crowley tilted his head. “What was that?”

He tilted his head up to the ceiling, knowing full well this was some sort of ineffable bloody joke at his expense. “I said, I checked my true form this morning. To see how things were coming along,” he said. Crowley’s brow began to furrow. “I found rather more than I bargained for.”

“Meaning...?” he said, cautious of assuming anything about pregnancy anymore. Reading human biology books was hard work, and he’d not gotten to the end of the reproduction chapter yet.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. Crowley was going to be insufferable for days about this. “Twins,” he said through gritted teeth.

Crowley dropped the bag, jabbing a finger accusingly at the bump. “I knew it!” 

“You did _not!”_


End file.
